Apples

Growing up I was convinced I was the milk man’s kid. I was nothing like my mother and from time to time I would approach her calmly and explain it is ok you can tell me the truth. If I had turned out to be the milk man’s it would have made perfect sense. Since I wasn’t the milk man’s then this apple must have rolled down to the next tree, it was the only way to explain how different we are.

Now don’t get me wrong my mother is an amazing woman. She worked in Labor in Delivery for the local county hospital for years. She served her Country and single handedly raised 2 children. She’s always there to help or support me in whatever random thing I’ve picked up and I’ve picked up some random things.

In the more recent years I have learned not all moms are created equal and I got one of the best from the barrel. I have come to realize I’m more like her and less like the milk man. She even blurts crazy stuff at the dinner table, at least now I know where I learned that from.

It’s interesting how this apple really didn’t far as far from the tree as I thought. I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to truly appreciate her. I am proud to be her apple. I don’t have children of my own yet (they just won’t put their heavenly Lego’s down) but I will strive to be as good as the example I’ve had.

Let’s just hope this tree isn’t planted on a hill.